


As time goes by

by Fancyfrenchie



Series: Slaveverse [4]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Captivity, I don't know how to tag this, M/M, Poor Galen, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-12 23:51:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10502061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fancyfrenchie/pseuds/Fancyfrenchie
Summary: A long time ago, his universe was once huge, it encompassed, well, the entire universe.His universe had galaxies, and worlds within it, and he had walked tall amongst the stars.





	

A long time ago, his universe was once huge, it encompassed, well, the entire universe.

 

His universe had galaxies, and worlds within it, and he had walked tall amongst the stars.

 

Now his universe has shrunk.

 

It consists of  eight main portions.

 

The first and the one he hates least is his cell. It's small and dark, cramped. It stinks, though once he's been shut up for a while he stops noticing.

 

He only knows, as when he's collected in the morning he has to be ready to go, the officers are always  furious if he isn't able to be on his feet by the door and they have to come in after him.

 

When he's returned to the cell, he notices the difference himself in the difference between the recycled air of the base and the fetid air of his home.

 

The entire room is kept bare, he doesn't have anything. He is forced in usually in his jumpsuit but almost as often without and left. There are no blankets, no pillows, no windows, he's  provided with no books, or media.

 

He is denied every incidence of comfort.

 

Yet, it's still better, lost alone in the dark hugging his knees, humming a little in his throat not loud enough for any passerby to hear and grow angry about but loud enough to sooth him, loud enough that he knows the darkness of the cell is temporary and hasn't yet been replaced by the eternal darkness of death. It still better, than the torments he faces in the other sections of his universe.

 

The next is the office. He is taken there everyday and he does the work he is set. He remembers that early on he had revolted, and protested against the work they provided for him.

 

Now he is grateful for a chance to prove his worth, he knows his skills with maths, and numbers, his ability to problem solve is the only thing that keeps him as anything more than a toy for the Imperials.

 

The office is warm and bright, with people everywhere. Yet he feels more lonely in the office than he does in his cell.

 

None of the other occupants will talk to him, if they ever notice him, it's so that he can do something for them.

 

Sometimes this is only basic things, they want drinks making, or things fetching, an equation working out, or there is paperwork, accounts and requisition forms.

 

Sometimes they want more personal things from him.

 

Third is the big conference room, where he is ordered to go on occasion. He is made to go and deliver speeches and updates on the Death Star Project.

 

He hates going there, it's a constant source of worry, whether he's going to try to hide the lastest flaws in the design or whether it's only the overwhelming terror of what such a large group of people might think up to do with him.

 

There is never a restful moment in the conference room.

 

Fourth is the Medical Bay, the Medical Bay is one of the most frightening parts of his universe and at least once he's been too afraid to go in on his own, no matter who ordered him, and how much his collar had insisted, getting dragged in hadn't been any easier.

 

The Med Bay smells of disinfectant and antiseptic, the harsh chemicals smells hit the back of his throat and make his eyes water.

 

The bed he always uses is set in the back corner away from any better people, who might have to be near him, with it's thick restraints at every corner.

 

He knows too that the bed’s configuration can be changed, so that his legs can be forced up in stirrups.

 

Fifth is the yard, there is a ring set into the wall behind the main base, and after he lost his shower privileges, long ago, he never learnt why, they began to hose him down in the yard.

 

In summer this isn't so bad, but in winter the terrible cold bites deep into his flesh and it takes him hours to stop himself from shaking.

 

Sixth is the one he fears beyond all others, the barracks.

 

During his waking hours he can never bring himself to think about the barracks, he has night terrors about it though.

 

Then there is the canteen, he has to go there sometimes, in the company of an officer or a scientist. He has to sit tortured by the scents of food that will never be for him no matter how well he behaves.

 

The canteen is its own special torment.

 

With so many different ranks all gathered together there has been a single visit when his heart hasn't skipped a beat after he's heard the voice of one or more of his tormentors.

 

Often he has to kneel, his knees bruising on the floor, surrounded by the happy chatter of his rapists. He kneels quaking with terror praying he goes unnoticed.

 

Knowing his chances are roughly 50/50.

 

Lastly is Master’s quarters, it's nicer than the barracks, he only has to try to please one man.

 

It's warm there and there are soft carpets, cushioning his knees or his body.

 

Sometimes he's allowed to sleep there, curled in the corner, it's the warmest, softest bed, huddled on Master's bedroom rug, that he can now imagine.

 

He sleeps there listening to Master snore, knowing he's not alone.

 

it helps him, it helps him find the courage to go on in this life, and sometimes when he's suffering he likes to think about these times warm and soft in Master's room or safe in the darkness of his fetid cage.

  



End file.
